


In the Jaws of a Boy

by MissLouisa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, POV Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLouisa/pseuds/MissLouisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The text Scott received with less than twenty minutes to go of the last class before spring break has him buzzing. He didn't really have any spring break plans - to watch a lot of tv, maybe - but now he really does.</p><p>When Scott reaches his crappy dorm room, he's greeted by the sight of his rumpled looking best friend asleep in his bed. It's the best thing he's seen in weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Jaws of a Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redweathertiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redweathertiger/gifts).



> Title taken from The Naked and Famous, Waltz.

The text Scott received with less than twenty minutes to go of the last class before spring break has him buzzing. He didn't really have any spring break plans - to watch a lot of tv, maybe - but now he really does.

When Scott reaches his crappy dorm room, he's greeted by the sight of his rumpled looking best friend asleep in his bed. It's the best thing he's seen in weeks. Liam, his roommate, is smirking at him, and Scott quirks his eyebrows in response.

"He seemed pretty tired when he got here and he just kind of crashed," Liam explains.

Scott can't help but grin, because Stiles must have driven twelve hours to get to him, and it's kind of awesome.

"Anyway," Liam says. "Happy spring break, dude. I was just waiting til you got back before I headed out."

"Have a good one," Scott tells him with a warm grin.

"You too," Liam says, and he winks, and Scott laughs.

They hug, and Scott wonders whether to wake Stiles and find out what his spring break plans are. All he knows is that Stiles is in his room, drooling on his pillow. Stiles looks like he needs the sleep, though, and he looks so warm and comfortable and just looking at him is making Scott kind of sleepy too, to be honest.

Shit, and he knows Liam's mattress is the Worst Thing Ever. It's hard as a rock and squeaky as hell.

Really, if Scott wants a nap, his only option is just to join Stiles on his tiny single bed.

He kicks off his shoes and takes his shirt off, but leaves his jeans on, no matter how uncomfortable it'll be later, and wriggles under the duvet next to Stiles. All Stiles is wearing is a thin t-shirt and his own jeans, and he mutters under his breath as Scott's shoulder brushes against his chest.

It doesn't take long for Scott to drift off at all.

-

"You are a duvet thief," Scott hears, before he's even opened his eyes. He grins sleepily, eyes still closed, feels the warm puffs of Stiles' breath against his forehead.

"It's my bed," Scott says. There's some rustling, and then he abruptly finds himself on the floor.

"Ow," he says, and Stiles' face grins down smugly at him.

"Your roommate promised he'd wake me up before you got back," Stiles tells him.

Scott shrugs. "How long did we sleep for?"

"It's nearly 9," Stiles says. He breathes out, fast, a rush of air into the silence.

"How long are you staying for?" Scott asks, lifting himself up onto the bed.

"Until Tuesday," Stiles grins. He links his arms behind his head, and Scott tries not to track the motion of his arms. It's difficult.

"Sweet," Scott says. "Got big plans for the rest of the week?"

Stiles shrugs. "You know how it is, Scotty, people to see, places to be."

"Sure," Scott says, "be deliberately vague."

Stiles laughs. "I have a detailed itinerary for the time I'm here, don't worry."

"Oh god," Scott says. "You're here because there's a crime scene you want to investigate, isn't there?"

"I think we've all learned from my mistakes," Stiles says. "But did you know you are less than an hour away from like a freakin' billion tourist destinations? There's a haunted house literally a 15 minute drive from your campus."

"Is that tomorrow's plan?"

Stiles shakes his head, and somehow manages to grin wider. "Tomorrow," he says, pausing for emphasis, "is a day for video gaming. I'm reliably informed you haven't had a chance to buy the new Call of Duty game."

Scott snorts. "You've done your research."

"This is sacrilege, Scott, you know how I feel about Call of Duty."

"Yes, Stiles," Scott says, because he's a good friend and he knows his duty. Even if he only ever plays Call of Duty because Stiles likes shooting things and Scott likes watching Stiles shoot things.

"But that's tomorrow," Stiles says decisively. "Wanna get pizza and watch a movie?"

"Nothing with that chick you like in it," Scott warns, and Stiles blinks innocently at him.

"I don't understand what you have against Saoirse Ronan," Stiles says. "Hanna was a fantastic movie."

"Agree to disagree," Scott says. "You want meat feast?"

Stiles nods, already distracted by sliding a dvd into Scott's Xbox. Scott is incredibly impressed by the way he managed to navigate the mass of cables first try. It's a shame he's not paying attention, because he's pretty sure Stiles would be pleased with the way he's got the best pizza place in a 5 mile radius on speed dial.

He doesn't know how either of them have managed to get more than a semester through college without visiting each other's campuses, but it's not an experience he wants to repeat. He loves this campus, and he's missed Stiles so much. Having Stiles here just feels kind of _right_ , even if he's only here for a few days.

-

By Saturday evening, Scott is ready to never see another video game again. The junk food he's a little more flexible on, but he's pretty sure he needs to wait at least a week before he even attempts to eat any more.

Stiles was so enthusiastic about Call of Duty, and so gracious when he pretended that Scott was actually _good_ at it, even though he crowed every time he won, and Scott couldn't say no to that.

"Tomorrow's plans?" He asks, when he's finally coaxed Stiles away from the Xbox.

Stiles grins. "Surprise."

They end up curling up in the same tiny single bed again, and Scott's decided to stop questioning it. It's just how things are, with Stiles.

-

"So I have a confession to make," Stiles says, as he drives the jeep away from Scott's campus.

"You're taking me to look for a dead body?" Scott asks.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Not quite."

"It's the haunted house today, isn't it?"

Stiles shakes his head. "It's closed on Sundays. That's tomorrow's plan, Scotty. Today, we're going rock climbing."

"Oh. Sweet."

"You sound disappointed," Stiles says, taking his eyes off the road to throw a look at Scott.

"Confession sounded pretty dramatic," Scott tells him.

"That's wasn't it," Stiles says, and Scott doesn't have to see his face to know that he's smirking. He can hear it in his voice. Dammit, Stiles.

Scott waits him out, knowing how Stiles likes to think over his phrasing before he has something big to say.

"I got an internship," Stiles says, and Scott feels a rush of pride towards his best friend, freshman, who managed to score an internship at somewhere probably very impressive against tough competition. "So I won't be going back to Beacon Hills at all this summer," he finishes.

Scott's stomach drops.

"I'm not going to see you again until Thanksgiving?"

"Sorry, man," Stiles says. "I'm sure the pack will help you through this difficult time in your life."

Scott wants to laugh at Stiles' tone, because he knows he's overreacting, but- no Stiles, for so many months?

"You are my pack," Scott says quietly. Stiles glances over at him again, and his face softens.

"Sometimes I think you forget that it's not just me and you against the world," Stiles tells him, and Scott thinks that Skype isn't the same and Stiles hasn't talked to him like this in a long time because they haven't been face to face in a long time.

"It was good when it was though, wasn't it?"

Stiles pulls a face, makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Don't tell me you're reminiscing freshman year of high school, Scott, that's a terrible idea."

"You were obsessed with Lydia Martin," Scott says.

"You were obsessed with skateboarding," Stiles counters. "Arguably more embarrassing, the amount of times you fell over."

"At least the skateboarding thing was only freshman year. How long were you obsessed with Lydia for?"

Stiles huffs. "Mock me all you like, but I'm not the one who spent a year reenacting Romeo and Juliet."

Scott snorts. "At least I had a love life."

"Ooh, it burns," Stiles says. "Anyone caught your eye lately?"

Scott shakes his head. "My roommate is the worst wingman in the world," he says, because it's better than _I've had feelings for you since the summer after 11th grade._

"I am a pro wingman, Scott," Stiles is insisting. This is, in fact, not true, but that might be more Scott's fault than Stiles'. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"I'm not looking for anyone new right now," Scott says. "Other things are more important, I guess."

Stiles shoots him a sly grin. "You've definitely got your eye on someone."

Scott blinks at him.

"I know you too well, Scotty," Stiles says in a sing song voice. "You can't hide that shit from me."

"It's not someone I can have," Scott says quietly. "I don't want to talk about it."

It's weird how quickly Scott got out of the habit of lying after being surrounded by werewolves, and even now that it's just him and Stiles he feels so relieved that he can say the truth, even if he has to hope that Stiles won't dig.

"Got it," Stiles says. "But only if you promise not to use your freaky werewolf hearing to figure out who I'm into."

Scott quirks his eyebrows, because he's been avoiding doing that ever since he realized just how _much_ he likes Stiles.

"Can do," Scott says, and relaxes back in his chair. He's spotted the road sign for the climbing center, and he's excited to have a day of dicking around outdoors with his best friend.

Feelings or no feelings.

-

When Scott wakes up, it's still dark outside, and Stiles' eyes are closed. Their legs are tangled together, more skin touching than usual, and Scott doesn't think he ever wants to leave Stiles' warmth. It's dangerous to have these thoughts so early in the morning when it's so hard for Scott to think straight, but Stiles smells amazing and Scott's pillow is going to smell like Stiles when he leaves and they're tangled so close together so it's easy for Scott to bring a hand up and brush his shoulder gently.

"Scott," Stiles says, without opening his eyes.

"Stiles," Scott murmurs. His voice is sleep hoarse and a smile slowly spreads across Stiles' face.

"I missed you," Stiles says sleepily. "I don't know if I said, but I really missed you."

"Yeah," Scott says, struck a little dumb.

It's half past five in the morning and Scott's utterly in love. He has no idea what to do.

Stiles cracks an eye open to glare at him. "Yeah?" He asks, disbelievingly. "That's all you have to say?"

Scott laughs.

"Missed you too," he says. "So much."

Somehow, Stiles has inched closer, so their noses are practically pressing against each other.

"How are we going to cope this summer?" He whispers, and Scott can taste his morning breath in a way that should be disgusting but somehow isn't. There's no explanation for it.

"Pining," Scott says. He means it to be a joke, but he can't quite manage to inject enough humor into his voice.

"Pining?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah," Scott says dumbly, and all he can do is watch as Stiles closes the scant gap between their lips to kiss him.

It's a gentle press of lips, warm and soft, and then Scott's wrapping his arms around Stiles' body as much as he can and just holding him.

"It's not just me?" Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head, a smile creeping at the edge of his mouth.

"Never was," Stiles murmurs.

-

When they wake up for a second time, still tangled in each other, it's because Scott's alarm has gone off.

"Have you already paid for the Haunted House tickets?" Scott asks, instead of getting out of bed.

"No," Stiles says, "why?"

"We could just spend the day in bed," Scott says. He's lying on his back, facing up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to see what Stiles' face does when he suggests that. He doesn't think he'd survive it.

"Could we," Stiles says, and then there's a hand creeping down his chest, and Scott thinks that nobody is so lucky to have a best friend like his.

-

"I'm kind of proud of us for not leaving the room once yesterday," Stiles say as he stretches, cracking his back.

"Such an achievement," Scott says, admiring the hickey he left on Stiles' neck.

Stiles smirks at his gaze. "No distraction, Scott, I want to be on the road by 10 at the latest."

"You don't want to stay a bit longer?" Scott asks. "A couple of days, a week, for the rest of the year?"

Stiles laughs. "Sorry, dude," he says.

Scott smiles weakly.

There's an awkward pause, Stiles' pack half packed at his feet, before Stiles bends down to grab some more clothes from the messy pile on the floor.

"That's my shirt," Scott points out, as Stiles tugs a dark red henley out of the pile.

Stiles' cheeks go faintly pink. "I know," he says quietly.

"So we're- we're going to have a repeat of yesterday, right?"

"It wasn't just a one off," Stiles confirms, still looking down at his clothes.

Scott doesn't think they've been this shy in front of each other since they were seven years old.

"Are we exclusive?" Scott asks.

Stiles looks up at that, meets Scott's eyes.

"I'd like to be," he says firmly, and Scott nods decisively.

"What about our parents?" He asks, smirking, and Stiles pulls a face.

"Dad's coming up to visit in a month," he says with a vague hand gesture. "I'll tell him then."

Scott can't help but smile.

"You better not book anything for Thanksgiving," he says threateningly. Stiles blinks at him.

"I would never," he says. Scott quirks an eyebrow and Stiles shrugs, and Scott is going to miss this _so badly_.

"I wouldn't," Stiles says, more seriously.

Scott stands up when Stiles shoulders his bag, suddenly at a loss for what to say. This is somehow so much worse than when they said goodbye before college, the awareness of Stiles' imminent absence a thousand times amplified.

It feels like they're clinging to each other when they hug, and Scott has never been more grateful for how tall Stiles got, so he can bury his head in Stiles' shoulder.

"It'll be fine," Stiles says, but his voice is strangely muffled.

"Yeah," Scott says, but he can't stop the stinging in his eyes.

"I really have to go now," Stiles tells him, and Scott smiles.

"Yeah," Scott says, "sorry. Drive safe."

"I'm the safest driver," Stiles says, but his smile looks a little watery too, and Scott has to look away.

"Skype on Thursday?" Scott asks, and Stiles nods.

Scott walks him out to the jeep, and watches him drive away.

He can pretend that the next few months aren't going to be completely awful. He can totally pretend that.

-

He manages to keep it under control for at least the first month, but by the end of the second, he's pretty sure every single one of his friends has noticed something is up.

"You're pining," Liam tells him, disdain dripping from every word.

"Yep," Scott says. He's come to accept it, really. It's what he and Stiles had predicted would happen, after all.

"Your boyfriend, Steve," Liam starts.

"Stiles," Scott corrects. Liam rolls his eyes at him.

"Sorry, Stiles. You're going to see him soon anyway, over summer break."

Scott shakes his head slowly. "He's working all summer, he can't make the trip to come see me."

"What's stopping you from going to see him?" Liam says like it's obvious.

That's when Scott starts planning.

It makes the weeks he goes without seeing Stiles a little less painful, though the Skype calls when he's so clearly exhausted and just as morose as Scott are still awful. Telling their parents didn't go too badly at least. His mom was surprised and the Sheriff was amused, which was pretty much the expected reaction.

Scott misses Stiles, and he misses his pack, and the tail end of the academic year is exhausting. Heading back to Beacon Hills with the knowledge that Stiles won't be there brings no relief either, as much as he's pleased to see his pack.

It's the trip to visit Stiles that he's waiting for. Since Liam put the idea in his head it's been occupying a large amount of his waking thoughts (it's a miracle his friends put up with him), and now the days are crawling by as the date that Scott needs to drive up draws closer.

The drive itself is agonizingly long, and Scott only hopes that Stiles doesn't have plans for the evening because he arrives far later in the evening than planned, and it feels a little like everything has gone to hell before he's even got started.

The Sheriff has given him directions to Stiles' summer apartment so Scott knows exactly where he's going as he drives into the city. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he turns into the street Stiles' apartment is on, steadily growing tenser as he parks outside.

He doesn't know what to say as he waits for someone to answer the buzzer. It doesn't matter if it's Stiles or one of the guys Stiles lives with, he just has no idea what to say.

"Hello?" It's Stiles' voice coming out of the tinny speaker.

"Hey, Stiles," Scott says.

There's silence for a minute or two.

"You asshole," Stiles says, but he sounds delighted, and the door of the building clicks open.

Stiles meets him in the stairwell, moving so fast they almost collide.

"Hi," Stiles says, smile so wide it looks like it might crack his face open.

"This is much better than Skype," Scott says. "So much better."

Scott thinks that he maybe doesn't want to leave Stiles ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
